


those things which ought not to be forgotten

by CallMeBombshell



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-15
Updated: 2012-02-15
Packaged: 2017-10-31 05:45:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/340578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallMeBombshell/pseuds/CallMeBombshell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is thirteen the first time he takes the day off from school, puts on his best shirt, goes and finds somewhere quiet (a bench at the park), and sits there, pretending like, at any moment, his mother will came walking up, will smile at him, will hug him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	those things which ought not to be forgotten

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [A Softer World Multifandom ficathon](http://roslindi.livejournal.com/7412.html).
> 
> Prompt: _on my mom's birthday, I put on my best suit, I get a hair cut. I pretend she's coming home._

Sam is thirteen the first time he takes the day off from school, puts on his best shirt, goes and finds somewhere quiet (a bench at the park), and sits there, pretending like, at any moment, his mother will came walking up, will smile at him, will hug him. He lets himself pretend she'll have a picnic, that they'll sit on the grass and share sandwiches and apples and grape juice and chips, that they'll talk about nothing, watch the clouds, watch the people out walking their dogs, and he'll turn to her and say, "Happy birthday, Mom."

 

He's nineteen and walking down Stanford streets, backpack full of textbooks and head full of lectures, but he puts it all aside when he gets to his dorm room, throws his backpack on his bed and goes to his closet, changes his shirt, grabs a jacket, and goes out again. 

He finds a table at a restaurant, sits across from an empty seat and he eats and pretends that she's just late, that there was traffic, that she'll be here any moment. He imagines her smiling, ordering a glass of wine and then coffee to go with dessert as she says, "Thank you Sam, this has been a lovely birthday."

 

Twenty-three and he's been back hunting for a year, and they're in the middle of a case but he still finds himself standing, pulling on his coat. "I'm going out," he tells Dean, who looks up for a moment, nods, and says, "Bring me some pie when you come back." 

And Sam rolls his eyes, but he still goes to the diner down the street and orders a slice of pie to go. He gets himself a slice of cake, and asks the lady at the counter if they've got any candles. She smiles at him when he sticks the little pink candle into his slice of cake, lights it, then folds his arms on the table, rests his chin on them, and stares at the melting wax dripping down the candle. "Another year, Mom," he says to himself, and blows it out.

 

Twenty-seven and the world is ending, coming down around their ears and they still don't know how to stop it. He's wearing a suit, walking away from a police station and a lead, and the date's on a newspaper at a stand on the corner. He checks his watch; half an hour until he needs to meet up with Dean. So he turns, makes his way to the park he'd seen on the way over. 

He finds a bench and sits there, just like he did when he was thirteen, watches the people walking, watches a dog jump to catch a frisbee. _This will all be gone,_ he thinks, and then, out loud, "I wish you were here, Mom. I think, for you, we could do it. We'd never let anything ruin your birthday, not even the Apocalypse." He sits there for a moment longer, watching the dog chase the frisbee again, feeling a smile grow on his face. _We'll find a way,_ he thinks.


End file.
